Cono

Cono LaGuardia is a true son of Brooklyn. Born and raised in Williamsburg, Cono graduated from the borough’s public schools before serving our country in the Korean War. He repaired military vehicles close to the front lines and earned two Battle Stars.

When Cono came home he landed a job at the New York City Department of Sanitation, where he spent almost 20 years, working his way up to assistant foreman.

When we visited Cono, he was full of jokes and stories. Once, Cono and his Department of Sanitation co-workers found a box of brand-new wigs in the rubbish. Inspired by the treasure, Cono spent the rest of the day riding around in a bright red woman’s wig, causing double takes and near accidents.

But when Cono talks about his wife, his “sweetheart” Rose, the laughter fades. His voice becomes raw, his eyes teary.

He and Rose met at a social club located on Lorimer Street in Brooklyn when Cono was just 19. They began “keeping company” and were engaged one year later.

Cono and Rose were married on April 11th, 1953, in St. Mary’s Immaculate Conception Church on Leonard Street in Brooklyn. “The church was packed,” he recalls.

They were together for 55 years, but now Rose is in the hospital. She has advanced Alzheimer’s disease and will never return to the home they have shared since 1966.

Yet with everything Cono has been through, he remains an optimist, a lively presence, talking about his adventures and tribulations with fondness and a quick wit.

In 2003, he had a back operation and made a full recovery. He was fine for three years and three months – until he began to fall. When doctors found blood in his brain following a fall, Cono underwent brain surgery.

Always joking, he said: “They didn’t take too much away in that one. Actually I think they put something in there.”

Recently Cono had a couple of mini-strokes. Even so he insists on staying in his home. “For the rest of my life, I never want to see another ambulance or hospital. I want to stay here, sitting on the porch; that’s my hangout 24 hours a day.”

With the help of Citymeals-on-Wheels, Cono has been able to remain at home. “I’m a lucky guy. More than once,” he says. “I keep telling the world. I’m going to live a long, long time.”

Because of donations made to Citymeals-on-Wheels, extraordinary men and women like Cono receive help and hope everyday. With your support, we can continue to make this possible.